As Maggie took the stairs up from the Maison Blanche Metro stop, heading back to the Shangri La, her phone buzzed in her pocket with a voicemail notification. Rain was beginning to sprinkle the pavement.
Her father. How odd it felt; no communication for years and now this—regular contact. Just like a normal father and daughter.
Call me when you get a chance, Maggie.
Such a curt message did not seem to bode well.
She ducked into the doorway of a café idle between lunch and dinner and dialed her father on his cell phone in Alexandria. Fortunately he was his way to work and had a moment to talk.
“Anything to get you out of the house,” she said.
“Stefania is a wonderful woman, Maggie.”
“I’m sure you’re required to say that under pain of torture. Is this a fun call?”
“Not in the slightest.”
She had suspected as much. “I hope you’re using RedPhone,” she said, meaning the encryption app. “Or something similar.”
“Comes with the territory,” he said.
“Any good news?”
“I spoke to Senator Brahms,” he said quietly. “She’s doesn’t think you have a case with the prisoner abuse complaint. If anyone turned too bright a light on what went on with Abraqa from our end, not notifying the French that we were running it, we’d be in deep you-know-what.”
“What a collection of gutless wimps Washington is.”
“That’s news to you?”
She was disappointed but not surprised. “Well, thanks,” she said.
“But Walder and crew know she’s still good supporting Abraqa.”
Maggie hoped it wasn’t all going to be a wasted effort. “I really appreciate it.”
“Hold on,” her father said. “I haven’t finished. Brahms called me back—not long afterwards.”
Interesting. Her dad and Senator Brahms. Still pretty close. Well, Brahms was kind of statuesque and well preserved. And she wielded power. Did she call him Robert? “And?”
“Between you and me and the deep blue sea, Maggie, SDAT is just about to relocate your friend.”
That made Maggie stop and listen. “Kafka?” she said. “Any idea where?”
“Of course no one will admit any of this, if it were to rear its ugly head on CNN.”
“Who watches CNN anymore? And I don’t talk to anybody in the press. I just threaten to.”
“And, more importantly, Senator Brahms’s name doesn’t come up—at all. Not ever. Never.”
“If you could see me now,” Maggie said, “you would see me making a little zipper motion over my mouth. Just like you always did.” It was one of the memorable things during her infrequent times with him as a child.
“Some place called La Ferme,” her father said. “Do you know of it?”
The Farm. “No,” she said. “But it sounds intriguing. I shall find out.”
“You better hurry. They’re trying to get him there today. They’re getting it cleared with their ministry of Foreign Affairs as we speak.”
“Bellard wants to cover his ass. He’s already pushing it with the prisoner abuse thing.”
“Well, that’s all I have.”
“It’s a gold mine,” she said. It might be the break she needed. She just wasn’t quite sure how to leverage it yet. But John Rae would know. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Try, ‘I’m coming home and not getting involved.’”
“Sorry—that’s not the first thing that comes to mind.”
“I guess I expected as much,” he said. “Take care? If that does any good?”
“It does. I will.”
“Got to run,” he said.
“Take care . . . and thanks, Dad.”
“You bet.” He rang off.
Encouraged, she dialed John Rae. He was in a bar, a noisy one. There was much shouting, a lot of excited young men hooting and hollering. ZZ Top’s “Legs” was pounding away in the background.
“I’m glad to see you’re using your last day to see the real Paris,” Maggie said.
“I’m a culture sponge.”
“Are you in a freaking strip club, JR?”
“They’re called ‘gentlemen’s clubs’ these days.”
“How classy.”
“I’m actually meeting an old friend. He picked the place, not me.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
“I know,” he said wistfully. She could hear John Rae drink something. “Any news from Pop?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said, excitement building in her voice. “Where are you, exactly?”
“I’m kind of embarrassed to say. And I’m not sure I want you to come here.”
“I already know that men are pigs. Where are you? I’ll grab a cab. I think we need to move fast.”
“Some place called Miss Ku’s.”
“In the meantime, see what you can learn about La Ferme. It’s a place SDAT seems to take special guests.”
“It means The Farm in English, Maggie.”
“I’m glad you’re working on your French,” she said, flagging down a cab.